


One Cool Cat Daddy

by Sholio



Category: Luke Cage (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Just Add Kittens, POV Luke Cage, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19709101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: "Look, boss," the bouncer said. "Mama cat's got a little tux on. She's all dressed up for the club."Luke scowled at him.(Or: A nightclub, a box of kittens, and the Hero of Harlem.) Post-LC season 2.





	One Cool Cat Daddy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meatball42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/gifts).



"We've got a situation, boss."

Luke was already on his feet, but the bouncer, a giant slab of muscle who went by Meathook, grinned and held up a hand. "Not what you're thinking. Actually ... okay, c'mon down the back. I think I need to just show you."

Now more curious than alarmed, Luke followed him down the back stairs of Harlem's Paradise and into the back room that served as a combination green room and dressing room for the lounge acts. It was still early in the evening, and no one was here except two of the bartenders, who were giggling over something in a cardboard box.

"What's that?" Luke asked, leaning over to see.

Someone had put a towel in the box, and crawling around on it, there were half a dozen tiny, bumbling kittens and a very annoyed-looking, terribly skinny cat with tuxedo markings.

The bartenders -- sisters; they'd worked the bar since Mariah ran the place -- both looked nervous. "We found them out back behind a garbage can," said the older sister, ZiZi. "It's raining out there; we just wanted to bring them inside."

"Look, boss," the bouncer said. "Mama cat's got a little tux on. She's all dressed up for the club."

Luke scowled at him.

*

The box somehow ended up getting moved to Luke's office so it was out of the way, and at least that way he could tuck it under his desk and not worry about it. He quickly regretted this decision, because all evening long, every single person who worked in Harlem's Paradise was in and out of his office to pet the kittens and bring the mama cat things to eat.

"You're going to need a litterbox," Tilda said, sitting on the edge of Luke's desk.

"Why are you here? Don't you have your own business to run?" Luke kept his hand in his lap. He'd been petting one of the kittens, a little striped gray one, when Tilda had barged in like she thought Mariah still ran the place. Now all he could do was keep his hand curled over it so it couldn't escape. Let her think he had a gun down here. He hoped that was what she thought, anyway.

Tilda smiled. "I heard you'd gone into the kitten rescue business and had to see for myself."

"How fast does word get around in this town, anyway?"

The kitten under Luke's hand chose that moment to start squeaking anxiously. Luke sighed and lifted it up to hold it against his chest. Tilda's smile widened.

"Want a cat?" Luke said. "Place like yours needs a cat around. Goes with the ambiance."

"No, but if you want any herbs for natural worming and flea protection, hit me up."

She did break down and pet some kittens before she left, though.

*

"You know how hard it is to bust people in here for possession with kittens all over the place?" Misty complained.

"I don't see how it's my job to make your job easier, Detective," Luke said, privately wondering if he could actually use this in his favor, and if so, how. He'd already had two bar fights fizzle out before they got started because nobody wanted to get into a fight with kittens underfoot.

Giving the kittens the run of Harlem's Paradise had never been part of the plan, but apparently it was even harder to get cats to do what you wanted than trying to get any cooperation out of people in the Dillard-Stokes-Johnson family. He still hadn't managed to talk Tilda into adopting a cat. (Or five.)

Misty eyed the black-and-white kitten that Luke was absently holding against his shoulder (having swept it out from underfoot at the words "Police raid!" so it didn't accidentally get stepped on) and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Wait a minute, is this where Danny and Colleen got that kitten from?"

"No idea what you're talking about." He was still kind of annoyed that he'd only managed to talk them into one. He had figured Danny would be good for two kittens _at least._

"Uh huh. Well, before you ask, my apartment doesn't allow pets."

"Keep it at the police station," Luke suggested. "Like a mascot."

"I don't need your cats being a bad influence on my cops, Cage." She grinned at him, as the kitten crawled into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. "I gotta say, though, you are one --"

"Don't --"

"-- cool cat, Luke Cage."

"-- say it."

"No wait, I think what I mean is, you're a cool cat _daddy."_

Grinning, she left with her suspect in handcuffs. Luke sighed deeply and went to put the kitten back in its box.

*

By the time the kittens were half grown, it was evident that all Luke's attempts to lay down the law about kittens in the club during business hours ("This is a nightclub, not a cat rescue!") were having absolutely zero effect on either the employees or the cats. He'd managed to give away one more kitten, to the younger of the bartender sisters, who had a four-year-old. The rest of the cats seemed to have taken over the club as their own personal hunting territory. They knew every vent and duct and old Prohibition-era tunnel, they'd learned to vanish at the appearance of cops or state health inspectors, and they knew exactly who among the regular patrons to avoid and who brought cat treats. 

And Luke had to admit that, while having kittens turning up randomly on tables and prowling around the lounge singers' feet was the sort of thing that would never have happened under either Cottonmouth or Mariah, it _wasn't_ Mariah's club anymore; it was his. Things weren't going to be the same. And maybe it was good to have a reminder of that, both for him, and for those who passed through the club.

And no, he was _not_ changing the name to the Kitten Club, no matter what Misty kept suggesting.


End file.
